


The ABC Affair

by alynwa



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-05-19 03:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 11,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14865332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa





	1. Astoria

“Did you know that **A** storia, Queens has a larger Greek population than Athens, Greece?”

“Yeah,” Napoleon growled, “and it looks like every Greek in Astoria is in this nightclub!”  The two agents were seated at an out of the way table in the cavernous club on 31st Avenue known, ironically, as Spyce.  The dance floor was practically writhing with hundreds of people dancing, jumping and screaming in that particularly joyous way one does when fueled by alcohol.  And this crowd had a big reason to be joyous: AEK Athens, the soccer team supported by the bulk of the crowd, had won a very prestigious national award earlier in the day.  “Illya, do you see our guy anywhere?”

The Russian had been nursing a club soda and trying to avoid making eye contact with the increasingly inebriated women who kept glancing his and Napoleon’s way.  “Nyet and I am starting to think he is no longer here if he ever was.”  His eyes swept the crowd one more time and he saw a familiar face heading toward one of the exits on the opposite side of the room.  “There!  Come on!” he yelled over the music as he pointed the way. 

Just as they jumped up from the table, a gaggle of young women blocked their path and began to sway seductively.  Each man found himself with an armful of woman.  “Dance with me handsome!” the brunette in Napoleon’s arms said as she tried to pull him to the floor.

“No, thanks, Miss.  I have to be going,” the CEA said as he disentangled himself from her grip.  He looked at Illya who was having the same problem.  It was like trying to get away from a Hydra; every time they twisted away from one woman, two more stepped in to dance.

Neither man wished to create a scene nor did they want to let their target escape.  Unfortunately, by the time they were able to dance their way to the exits, their man was nowhere in sight.

Ever the fatalist, Illya groaned, “We have failed.  Mr. Waverly will not be happy.”

      


	2. Belmont, the Bronx

Mr. Waverly was not happy.  After dressing down the CEA and his partner for what felt like hours, he glared at them before saying, “Intel points to his still being in New York City, specifically, in the **B** elmont section of the **B** ronx.”

Illya glanced at the map of New York City on Mr. Waverly’s wall.  “He’s on the Mainland.  He could be heading anywhere.”

Napoleon stood and motioned for his partner to do the same.  “Then we need to move.”

“My thought exactly, Mr. Solo.  Good luck.”

As they passed through Miss Rogers’ office and began to head to the garage Illya groused in a voice only Napoleon could hear, “I do not understand why we cannot add agents to this pursuit.”

Napoleon slid into the passenger seat before replying, “Because, Partner Mine, Mr. Waverly wants as few people as possible to know that UNCLE New York had a traitor in its midst.  He knows, the other Number Ones in Section I know, I assume Miss Rogers knows and we know.  Period.”

“So, we are on our own in this pursuit.”

“Exactly, Tovarisch.  The problem is that the Traitor knows how agents operate, what to look for and how to circumvent us _and_ he knows we are the logical team to be assigned to catch him.  It could be weeks before we grab him.”

Illya took his eyes off the West Side Highway to look at his CEA.  “I am usually the pessimistic one in this partnership.  Why do you feel thusly?”

Napoleon shrugged and looked out the window.  “My gut tells me this chase is going to stretch on for some time.”  He continued to stare out, the set of his shoulders telling Illya he was finished with conversation.


	3. Canaan, Connecticut

“Napoleon, from now on, keep your pessimism to yourself,” Illya said as he and his partner trotted back to their car.  He unlocked the passenger door and slid across to the driver’s side.  He barely gave the brunet time to close the door before steering into traffic.  “Ten minutes!  We missed capturing him by _ten minutes!_ ”  He pounded the steering wheel in a rare display of frustration.  “ _Chyort!_ ”

“I feel your pain, Tovarisch, I do, but look on the bright side: We know where he’s heading.  I’m glad I had perused his personnel file. That’s how we knew his cousin works in the Arthur Avenue Italian Market.  She is really delightful, too bad I had to meet her under these circumstances.”

Illya was navigating the congestion of the Cross – Bronx Expressway as they traveled east towards I – 95.  Ignoring the indignant honks as he cut off cars to avoid the back up heading into the Bronx River Parkway, he settled into the middle lane.  “I was surveilling the immediate area while you were speaking to her.   What did you say to get her to confide in you?”

Napoleon, for his part, had been slamming the imaginary brake on the passenger’s side of the car in response to the recklessness of his partner’s driving.  Happy to be distracted, he said, “It’s what the _Traitor_ didn’t say.  He apparently didn’t let on that he was in any kind of trouble; he just told her that he was on vacation and was heading up to his country home in **C** anaan, **C** onnecticut before going on a real road trip.”  He was relieved when the traffic jam eased as they got on the New England Thruway. 

“Ah, Illya?  Don’t kill me.”

“What did you do, Napoleon?” the Russian growled.

“I seem to have misread the map.  We should have gotten on the Bronx River Parkway.”

“ _What?_ ”

“We have to go back.  I’m sorry, Illya.”  He was _really_ sorry when Illya came off the highway to make the U – turn on the streets and re – entered the highway driving even faster than in the beginning.

Unfortunately, they arrived at the Traitor’s home just in time to see a helicopter taking off from the backyard helipad and disappear over the trees. 

    


	4. Derby

Fortunately for them, Napoleon had managed to see some of the call letters and numbers on the side of the chopper as it flew away.  He was rewarded when he contacted the local FAA and was able to find out that a helicopter with an identifying number containing the letters and numbers he had seen had filed a flight plan from Canaan to **D** erby, New York.  He reported this immediately to Mr. Waverly and requested that one of UNCLE’s choppers take them to Bradley International so they could have an UNCLE jet fly them into Buffalo.

As they rode in the chopper Illya asked, “What is the plan?”

“Well, when I spoke to the Old Man, he made it clear that we have carte blanche to spend whatever we need to spend to apprehend the Traitor.  So, when we land, we’re going to rent a car to drive the seventeen miles to Derby and try to keep an eye on the waterfront in order to keep him from entering Canada.

The Russian whistled in amazement.  “Carte blanche? It must have killed Mr. Waverly to grant that to us.”

“Mr. Waverly will do anything and allow _us_ to do anything to catch the Traitor.”

Less than ninety minutes later, the agents found themselves on the US coast of Lake Erie scanning the area with high – powered binoculars.  There was nothing to see.

After scanning the coast and the lake, Napoleon said, “I’m starting to think he’s not going to show.  That would have been too easy.”

Lowering his binoculars, Illya wiped his eyes and looked at his partner.  “I agree.  What do you think is happening?”

Napoleon signaled for Illya to follow as he headed back to the car.  When they got inside he said, “I’m thinking that he is deliberately misleading us, trying to see how we’ll react.  I think he flew here knowing we would assume he would try to cross into Canada and hoping we would follow.”

Illya arched his eyebrows as he reached for his thermos of water and took a drink.  "So, you believe he is still in the US?”

“I do.  I think we need to take a breath, slow down and start fresh in the morning.  We’ll get a clue, I guarantee.”  


	5. Evansville

After a night’s sleep in a roadside motel, Illya and Napoleon were eating breakfast is a small diner while discussing how to proceed.

“I think the Traitor wants to ultimately end up in Canada,” Napoleon said between forkfuls of scrambled eggs and sips of coffee.  Like most Section IIs, he ate like his food was about to be snatched away from him.  He and Illya had both attacked their platters with gusto as soon as they were placed before them.  In fact, Illya was already finished and motioning to the waitress for a coffee refill.

She filled both cups and moved on to take care of her other customers.  When she was out of earshot, Illya said, “Then why has he not made the attempt?  Canaan is close to the border as is Derby, yet he has not tried.”

“Because he’s assuming and rightly so, that he’s being followed.  If I were the one trying to make a break for it, I’d be doing exactly what he’s doing: Crisscrossing from one place to another, trying to shake my tail so I could finally make a straight run to the border.  He may even head farther south to try to lose us.”  Napoleon spread a map he had of the eastern United States on the table and began to stare at it.

Illya sipped his coffee and waited.  Napoleon’s biggest strength was as a strategist and the Russian knew his partner was running all kinds of different scenarios in his head.  The combination of that strength, Napoleon’s gut and the Solo luck usually stood them in good stead so he was willing to bide his time.

Finally, Napoleon put his finger down on a spot and said, “I’ll bet anything this is where he’s headed and now, so are we.”  He signaled for the check.  “I’m going to the men’s room to put the jet on notice that I want wheels up fifteen minutes after we board.”

The waitress dropped off their bill and as Illya pulled money from his wallet to cover it, he glanced down at the map to see where Napoleon wanted them to go next.  **_E_** _vansville, Indiana_.  _This is going to be interesting._

           


	6. Franklin Park

Napoleon had an old Army buddy who worked as a private investigator in the greater Evansville area.  Paddy Doyle gave them directions to his house when Napoleon called to say they were on their way and needed his help.  Paddy’s wife had cooked enough food for an army, sat them down at the kitchen table and made herself scarce so the men could speak privately.

“Nappy, me boy, I have many ears to the ground around here.  You two eat as much as you want while I get these headshots into the right hands.”  He made some calls and twenty minutes later, one of his contacts was knocking at the front door.  He handed over a stack of pictures of the man the UNCLE agents were looking for and came back into the kitchen.  Refilling his plate, he said, “If he’s been anywhere in this town, one of my guys will know about it.”

Sure enough, three hours after Napoleon and Illya had arrived at Paddy’s home, the PI received a phone call from one of his informants saying that the man in the picture had caught a bus headed towards **F** ranklin Park, Illinois.   

Illya pulled out the map to check.  “Franklin Park is seven minutes away from O’Hare International Airport.”

Napoleon was up and grabbing his coat.  “Paddy, the next time you come to New York, everything you do will be on me.”

Paddy roared with laughter as he clapped his friend on the shoulder.  “Nappy, you don’t fool me!  You’ve only made that generous offer because you know my darlin’ wife won’t go to New York and she won’t let me go alone!  So, your money is safe, me friend.  You want to repay me?  Call me when this is all over and tell me all about the chase so I can live vicariously.”  He shook both men’s hands at the door.  “Nice meeting you, Illya.  Good hunting!”

Illya slid behind the wheel.  “Where to?”

“Evansville Regional Airport; we’ll rent a plane to fly into O’hare.”

“Mr. Waverly is going to regret giving you permission to spend as much as you want,” he said before adding with a smirk, “Nappy.”

“Don’t even try it, you smart alecky Russian!”


	7. Glencoe

“This doesn’t feel right,” Napoleon said as he took a bite of his hot dog.  He and Illya were sitting at the Air Canada departure gates near a column that afforded them a good view of people awaiting flights without them being too visible themselves.

“Napoleon, I know New Yorkers like franks with sauerkraut and onions, but in this part of the country, it is quite normal to have tomatoes, pickles, relish, and celery salt on it, as well.”

“No, Partner, not the food.  Being here; this doesn’t feel right.  Let me see that map again.”  He opened the map and studied it while the Russian continued to scope out the terminal for any signs of their man.  “I’m thinking that if someone were tailing me, I would want them to think I’m trying to fly out.”  He went back to silently studying the map.  After a few moments he said, “If I were the Traitor, I would head to **G** lencoe; it’s on the lakefront.”

Illya swallowed the last of his lunch.  “So, you think he will try to get a boat to take him through the Straits of Mackinac into Lake Huron?”

“That’s what he wants us to think, I’m sure of it.  No, that would be too obvious.  I think he’ll hire a boat, hoping that we head up to the Straits.  If I were him, I would take that boat to Grand Rapids and head north on land.”

Illya looked at his partner and grinned.  “Napoleon, I have learned to trust your instincts.  If that is what you think he is doing, that is what we will do.  Just do me one favor, I beg you.”

Napoleon looked up from his map – folding.  “What favor is that?”

“When this is all over, please, _please_ let me be there when you explain our expenses to Mr. Waverly.”


	8. Harrison

Napoleon had decided they would attempt to grab the Traitor as he passed through **H** arrison, Michigan on his way to the Mackinac Bridge.  “He’ll be expecting to meet opposition at the bridge,” Napoleon had reasoned, “as it’s a narrow point of entry into Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.  He won’t be looking for trouble in Harrison.”

“How can you be so sure he will go through Harrison?”

“I’m not, but my gut is telling me that the Traitor is driving to the Mackinac Bridge so that he can cross into Canada from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and the straightest route from Grand Rapids goes through Harrison.  That’s what I’d do if I were in his shoes.  It’s a good spot for an ambush: The population is less than two thousand, but they’re used to seeing strangers because it’s a vacation destination.  It’s the halfway point on the way to the bridge.  There are nice places to eat there; I think he’ll stop.  He’s thinking that we’re either still at O’Hare or if we figured out that was a red herring, that we found out he rented a boat and we’re heading to the Straits thinking he’s beaten us to Canada.  He won’t think we’re ahead of him.  What?”  Napoleon had caught Illya staring at him.

“I am amazed and envious of your ability to read people!  I am good with the sciences, munitions and languages and I can second guess people, but not to the level you can.  I had heard that you were a master strategist, but this is the first time I am truly seeing it.  I am ashamed to admit there have been times, I have underestimated you.  That ends now.”

Napoleon had started to blush at the unexpected praise.  In the two years they had been partnered, it did seem that the majority of their affairs made use of Illya’s knowledge of explosives and skill with disguises and Napoleon’s ability to seduce anyone and gain their trust and sometimes, their devotion.  This was their first affair that was Napoleon – driven exclusively.  “Thanks, Illya,” he replied with heart – felt sincerity.  “Land the plane in Lake Mitchell and we’ll rent a car in Cadillac and get to Harrison.”

“Hopefully, we will be able to grab food before we grab the Traitor.”

“My thought exactly, Partner Mine.”

They were eating at the nearly deserted lakeside restaurant on the road out of town when the Traitor entered.  Unfortunately, he knew where to look to see if agents were in the place and spotted them immediately.  The man pulled his gun and snatched a young woman with an infant in her arms in front of him as a shield, all the while holding his gun to the terrified woman’s head.

He dragged them outside with the agents following.  “Gentlemen!  You have to decide what’s more important: Capturing me…or saving _them!_ ” he yelled as he violently pushed the mother and child off the wharf into the water and then turned and ran.

Horrified, Napoleon and Illya saw the two disappear in the dark water.  They snatched off their jackets and shoes and dove in to rescue the pair.  They found and pulled them out and had to perform CPR on both of them.  It took longer for the baby to be resuscitated by Napoleon and both men stayed with the hysterical mother until the local authorities arrived to take her and her child to the hospital. 

They told the local LEOs (law enforcement officers) the truth: They had not seen what vehicle the man had driven away in, they were UNCLE agents in pursuit and the description they were giving would probably not help as they were sure the man would be changing his appearance by the end of the day.

 


	9. Iron Bridge

After the fiasco in Harrison, the Traitor’s trail went cold.  Napoleon blamed himself when Mr. Waverly began to berate him for their failure to capture their prey.  He was astonished when Illya snatched the communicator from his hand to inform their superior about the woman and infant the Traitor had thrown into deep water.

“It was either save them or pursue the Traitor,” Illya stated defiantly, “The mother had lost her grip on her child so both of us were necessary to go into the water.”  Cheekily he added, “Would you have preferred we let them drown?”

“Watch your tone with me, Mr. Kuryakin,” Waverly admonished.  “However, you raise a point your partner did not.  In that case, Mr. Solo, I understand why you don’t yet have him.  Regroup and _find him._   Do not contact me again until you do.  Waverly out.” 

Napoleon placed his communicator in his suit jacket’s inside pocket and turned to face his partner.  “Partner Mine, you have no idea what it means to me that you stood up for me, but I’m giving you a direct order: Do not get in between Mr. Waverly and me again.”

“I will obey _if_ you tell me you will not fall on your sword in the future.  I do not understand why you would not tell him why we failed.”

“Because in the big picture, it doesn’t matter.  Failure is failure regardless of the reasons why and as CEA, ultimately it’s my responsibility.”

The Russian just shook his head and settled on his bed.  They had checked into the Cloghuan Bed and Breakfast on Mackinac Island that afternoon so that they could rest and think about their next move.   They were pleasantly surprised to see how many restaurants were available.  They had made a reservation for dinner at The Cudahy Chop House before lying down for a much-needed nap.  Both men had been very hungry so Napoleon had eaten a Nicoise Salad and the pork chop while Illya ordered the Cudahy Salad, seared duck breast and the lobster bisque for his appetizers and the rack of lamb for his entrée.  They each had crème brulee for dessert.

They had ordered bottles of scotch and vodka for their room and were enjoying after dinner drinks after their walk back from the restaurant.  Napoleon was swirling the liquid in his glass, lips pursed in concentration.  Illya had kept his counsel for as long as he could, until he finally said, “What is on your mind, moy droog?”

“I was going over the conversation I had with the Traitor’s cousin in the Arthur Avenue Italian market.  I seem to remember her mentioning something about his road trip.  I need to look at a map.”

He pulled out the Atlas maps he and Illya had accumulated while driving since the start of this affair.  “Yes!” he said after unfolding and studying his third map.  “She had said something about **I** ron Bridge, Ontario!”  He rubbed his forehead as he tried to remember.  “Yes, yes, she mentioned a family property just outside of Iron Bridge!  Perhaps, he went there!”

“Do you want to go now?”

Napoleon shook his head.  “No.  He thinks we’ve lost him.  We’ll rest tonight and head that way tomorrow.  It’s a very small town and not a tourist attraction; we will be noticed as soon as we show up.  Let’s get a good night’s rest and start fresh in the morning.”

“I am so glad you said that,” Illya said as he quickly undressed and got under his covers.  “See you in the morning.  Turn out the light.”   


	10. Jackfish

The next morning, they headed out to Huron Shores, the township where Iron Bridge is located.  The entire area had approximately two thousand residents, with just over six hundred calling Iron Bridge home.

They pulled into the Red Top Motor Inn and Restaurant on Highway 17 around noon the next day and entered the eatery, instinctively heading to a table at the far end of the place before Napoleon abruptly changed direction to sit closer to the front door.  “Lesson learned,” he said by way of explanation as he removed his suit jacket and draped it on a chair before sitting in another.

Illya removed his and laid it across the seat of the chair holding his partner’s jacket and sat in the remaining chair.  Both men were wearing ankle holsters since wearing shoulder ones would have required them to keep their jackets on and it was too warm for that.  The waitress brought them menus and the Russian was pleasantly surprised it was rather sophisticated for such a small town.  “What do you suggest?” Illya asked the waitress when she returned.

Sally (at least that’s what her nametag said), smiled at the young blond, “I love your accent!” she exclaimed, “You’re from England?”  She was a plump older woman with white hair piled high in a bun.  “Our hamburgers are considered ‘must haves’ for the truckers who drive up and down Highway 17.”

Illya returned the smile and Napoleon smiled inwardly when the woman began to blush.  “Then I will not argue with success; I will have a cheeseburger with fries with a vanilla milkshake.”

“I’ll have the same,” Napoleon said.  Sally wrote the order and headed for the kitchen.  “Tovarisch, I don’t know what you do to older women, but the way she looked at _you_ …Keep it up.  Maybe she knows something.”

Before Illya could reply, Sally was back with a small tray of pickles and Cole slaw.  “Compliments of the house,” she said.

“Thank you so much, Sally,” Illya said, “my friend and I are famished.  We just drove in from Harrison.”

“Harrison?  How interesting.  There was a man here for dinner last night who said he was from Harrison.  Nice guy, seemed a bit paranoid, though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, because he snapped at me when I asked him where he was headed, wanted to know why I wanted to know.  I told him I was just making conversation and didn’t mean anything by it.  I made a joke out of it by saying, ‘Hey, mister, I’m not the Mounties, you don’t have to tell me!’ and he relaxed and laughed.  He apologized, said he wasn’t himself and it had been a long day.  Then he told me he was headed to **J** ackfish.  My goodness, I’ve been running my mouth!  I’m sure your lunches are ready.”  With that, she headed to the kitchen.

The agents exchanged glances, having an entirely silent conversation.  When their food arrived, they ordered more to go and then wolfed their meal and got on the road for the six-hour drive.

When they arrived in Jackfish, they were shocked that the town seemed completely deserted.  They drove around until they saw a young couple with two small children about to get into a car.  “Excuse me!” Napoleon called out, “We’re a little confused.  We’re supposed to meet a friend of ours here.  This is Jackfish, right?”

The man instructed his wife and children to get into the car and then approached the agents.  “This is Jackfish, but there’s no one in this town except my family.  You passed a burned-out building?  That was the old Lakeview Hotel.  Burned down two years ago.  It was the last major employer in the area; the fishing companies started leaving ten years ago.  The only reason we’re still here is because we haven’t figured out where to go yet.  Our home is a total loss.  Who would buy it?”

Napoleon shrugged his shoulders.  “Thanks for your help.  Good luck to you.”  After the family drove off, Napoleon cut off the engine.  “Any suggestions?”

Illya, who had been studying a map of Canada said, “Actually, yes.  Look at this: There is a Jackfish in Saskatchewan.”

“Let me see that!”  Napoleon grabbed the map and checked on several things.  “Well, the bad news is: The only airport close to there is a Canadian military base so, flying in isn’t practical.”

“And the good news?”

“It’s right on Highway 17, nineteen and a half hours that away,” Napoleon said as he pointed back the way they came. 

Illya made a U – turn to head back to the highway.  “We are spending the night in the Red Top Motel.”

“Can’t wait to see your girlfriend Sally, eh?”  That earned him a punch in the arm.  


	11. Kalispell, Montana

It took Napoleon and Illya two days to make the drive to Jackfish, Saskatchewan.  They had hoped to find the Traitor there, but when they arrived, they discovered it wasn’t so much a town as it was a hamlet of less than four hundred people.  They showed his picture to everyone they met and hit pay dirt when an elderly man told them that he had spoken to the man days earlier. 

“He was looking for Jonas Beauchamp and I told him Jonas had moved back to the US a few months ago.  I gave him Jonas’ address in Montana.”

“He was looking for Jonas?  That’s where we were heading!  I can’t believe he moved and didn’t tell us!  Would you mind giving us Jonas’ address?” Napoleon asked.

That was an hour and a half ago and they had nine hours more to go (if they didn’t stop) before they reached **K** alispell, which is where this Jonas now lived and the Traitor was presumably heading.

Illya’s stomach growled so loudly he was certain Napoleon had heard it.  “I am starting to think,” he snarled, “that when we finally catch up with the Traitor, you will have to protect him from me because as of this moment, I want to see his head on a stick.”

“I don’t blame you, Partner.  I’m hungry, too and according to this map, we’ve got about six hours to go before we see a truck stop.”

“Do not remind me.”


	12. Lafayette

When they arrived in Kalispell, the first thing they did was eat.  Fortified, they headed to the address the old man had given them for Jonas Beauchamp.  Napoleon knocked on the front door while Illya stood slightly to the side, hand inside his jacket on his Walther, anticipating trouble.  Neither was quite prepared when the door opened.

“Mr. Beauchamp?” Napoleon asked as he looked down at the man who had answered his knock.  The man he was looking at stood no more than four feet six inches tall, appeared to be around sixty – five to seventy years old and wore a big smile on his sun – wrinkled face.

“Yes, can I help you?”

Illya had recovered from his initial surprise and spoke first.  “Actually, we are looking for Walter.  Is he here?  We were told he might be.”

“My godson _was_ here, but he’s gone now.  You missed him by three days!  May I ask: Why are you seeking him?”

Napoleon smiled broadly.  “We’re from the Publisher’s Clearing House and your godson has won second prize!  We are determined to find him so he can get the reward he deserves.”

“That’s amazing!” the man said, “He didn’t say a word about it!”

“He doesn’t know!  How many times have you bought raffle tickets from your coworkers and never inquired about who won?  He probably entered it as a lark and forgot all about it.  When we went to let him know, that’s when we found out he had moved with no forwarding address.  We make a good faith effort to find our winners before we choose an alternate.  Do you know how we can reach him?”

“Um, well, he told me he was going to visit his sister in **L** afayette, Louisiana.  He might still be there.  I don’t know.  I owed him money and when he had called me, I told him that I had it.  That’s why he came to see me.  I’ll give you her address; she doesn’t have a phone.  I hope you find him.”

Both agents shook the man’s hand at the conclusion of their business.  “So do we.”


	13. Monroe

Walter was not in Lafayette and neither was his sister.  The Publisher’s Clearing House story was a big hit with her neighbors who were only too glad to tell them that she and her brother had headed upstate to **M** onroe to visit their sister two days earlier.

“Head to the airport, Illya,” Napoleon said as they got into the car.  Looking at the map that came with the rental and said, “It would take three and a half hours to drive there; it would take less than an hour to fly there, so that’s what we’re doing, renting a plane and a pilot.  Why are you grinning?”

“We have spent so much money and time chasing the Traitor,” Illya said.

“And?”

“And I cannot wait for you to explain it to Mr. Waverly, is all.”

“Don’t worry about that, worry about what _we_ will say if we never catch this guy.”

They pulled up in front of the Traitor’s sister’s house three hours later.  They sat in the car for a few moments to scope out the house.  There were two cars with Louisiana plates in the driveway that they assumed belonged to the sisters.  They checked that their guns were set to sleep darts and entered the gate to walk up to the front door.

A woman who looked to be in her late forties with brown hair shot through with gray opened the door.  She looked from one to the other man and asked, “Are you Napoleon and Illya?”

Slightly taken aback, Napoleon replied, “Yes, we are.  I am Napoleon Solo and this is Illya Kuryakin.”

“My brother said you might be coming.  He says you’ve been hounding him for weeks.  He’s not here.  I’m asking you to leave him alone.”

Napoleon cleared his throat.  “I’m sorry, Miss, we can’t do that.  If he told you who we are, he also told you who we work for.  He is a traitor…”

“No, he isn’t!  he swore to me!”

The Russian spoke up.  “Then why is he running?”

“Because he’s chasing the person who framed him!  He won’t turn himself in because he has no proof of his innocence and he told me about some horrific place he would be sent to if you catch him!  He has to has proof!”

Napoleon said, “If what you say is true, you have to tell us where he’s gone so we can help him.  Our superior is under the impression that your brother has betrayed all that he swore to uphold.  If he is being framed, we can help him, but we have to catch up to him so please tell us where he went!”

The woman stared at them as she contemplated her choices.  Finally, she said, “He went to Nashville.”   


	14. Nashville

Napoleon and Illya walked into the lobby of the historic Hermitage Hotel in downtown **N** ashville, Tennessee several hours after speaking with the Traitor’s sister.  On the flight to Nashville and during the drive from the airport, the two men had discussed what Wendy, the woman who had answered the door and ultimately let them inside and Wanda, the sister from Lafayette, had told them.

“So.  You believe his sisters?” Illya had asked as he merged on Interstate 40 for the short drive from the airport to the hotel.

“I do.  Or more to the point, I believe that _they_ believe what their brother told them: He was framed because he discovered who the _real_ traitor is.  I have to look him in the eyes to know if he is being truthful.”

They exited the elevator and knocked on the door of room 327.  “Just a moment,” a voice Napoleon recognized as Walter Colton’s replied.  Seconds later, the door opened to reveal the man they had spent weeks tracking.

Illya stepped in front of Napoleon into Walter’s personal space.  “Back up and turn around!” he barked before patting him down.  “Where is your weapon?”

“In its holster there on the nightstand.  I’ve been expecting you.  My sisters called me right after you left them.”  He watched as the Russian secured the weapon and moved to sit a distance away from the CEA so that he could keep an eye on him and Walter.

Napoleon had moved to the couch and motioned for Colton to join him.  “All right, I’m listening.  Talk.”

“Beau Martin is a double agent for THRUSH.  I found out when we were paired for ‘The Broken Clock Affair.’  My mistake was not informing you or Mr. Waverly immediately of my discovery.  He must have figured out that I knew something and got to the Old Man first.”

“I’ve seen the evidence that he gave to Waverly; it’s very convincing.”

“Of course, it is.  He manufactured it to be that way!  I’m innocent, Chief Enforcement Agent Solo, completely innocent.  The entire time I’ve been moving around is to follow him and get money from friends and relatives.  That’s why I visited my sisters; I need money!    Don’t you think I’d be more financially comfortable if I were a double agent?”

While Napoleon thought, Illya asked, “Why run?  Why not proclaim your innocence at Headquarters?”

Walter snorted.  “I would think you would understand better than most what it means to have your superiors have a negative perception of you!  All the evidence Martin claimed to be against me proves he’s the traitor; he just plugged my name into it.  I had hoped to catch up with him here in Nashville, but he’s gone.”

Napoleon reached for his communicator and assembled the device.  “Open Channel D5, scrambled.”

“Dancer here.”

“It’s Napoleon, April.  I need to know if you and Mark assigned Beau Martin to an affair.”

“We did, just yesterday.  He was on vacation, but he’s flown to Oslo, Norway on an escort mission.  Did you need him for anything?  We can direct him to contact you.”

“No.  Is Mark with you?  Are you in your office or someplace private?”

“I’m ‘ere, Mate and April and I are in our office.”

“Good.  Listen carefully and tell no one, not even Waverly, that you’ve spoken to me.  When you get off work today, I want you both to go to Martin’s apartment and go through it with a fine – tooth comb.”

“What are we looking for, Darling?”

“Anything suspicious or incongruous.  I hate to sound mysterious, but I have my reasons.  Whatever you find, make copies of it, take pictures and make sure to leave it there.”

“Consider it done, Mate.  May I ask: Does this ‘ave anything to do with your and Illya’s mission?”

“You don’t need to know, Mark.  I need that information tonight.  I don’t care what time it is, just get back to me.”

“We will.”

April and Mark got back to Napoleon at ten – thirty.  Illya and Walter were sleeping while Napoleon kept watch.  Napoleon had shared with his partner earlier that he believed Walter but felt it prudent that they take turns sleeping in order to guard the man who was technically their prisoner.

After he spoke with the two junior agents, he woke Illya.  “Looks like the three of us are flying to Norway in the morning.”    

 

       


	15. Oslo

Illya, Napoleon and their charge landed in **O** slo and were headed to the Hotel Strand Fevik to check into their room when Napoleon’s communicator began chirping.

“Solo.”

“There’s a problem, Napoleon,” Mark Slate replied, “Martin’s missed his last check – in.  He’s supposed to be escorting King Olav’s youngest son Vidar to military school.”

Illya broke in, “The King only has one son; the Crown Prince Harald V.”

“That’s what his wife, children and subjects think,” Mark said, “He had an affair that produced the boy.  If that were to get out, it could be the downfall of the monarchy and _would_ be the destruction of his marriage.”

“I see.  Where is the school this Vidar was to attend?”

“The Ecole Militaire in Paris, France.”

“Thanks, Solo out.”  He disassembled his device and looked at his companions.  “If you’re correct, Colton, and I’m thinking you are, Martin might be delivering Vidar to THRUSH.  This would be the perfect opportunity for a double agent to deliver an asset without blowing his cover.”

“I think you’re right, Agent Solo.”

Illya changed course so that they were headed back to the airport.  “Looks like we are heading to France.”


	16. Paris

They arrived in **P** aris and checked into the Family Hotel at the end of the Passage Jouffroy.  Illya called the Ecole Militaire and was able to confirm that Vidar had not yet arrived though he had been due to report there the day before.

Napoleon gave Colton the task of ordering room service and then waved Illya to him as they moved to the opposite side of the suite to speak.  “I want you to stay here with Walter; I’m going to a meeting.”

“Who are you going to…?  Nyet, Napoleon!  Tell me that you are not going to see _Angelique?_ ”

“I am, I have to!  The trail is cold, do you have any better suggestions?”

Illya looked away in frustration.  “No, I do not.  How do you even know she is in town?”

“I don’t; however, if she _is_ in Paris, I have a good idea where to find her.”     He checked his watch.  “We’re going to eat and then I’m heading out.”

Two hours later, Napoleon strolled down Rue Montorgueil and entered the Au Rocher de Cancale, one of the oldest restaurants in Paris.  Angelique was sitting at her usual table, almost completely hidden by a large potted plant and a column.  Lucky for him, he could recognize her anywhere, which might explain why he was still alive.  As the maitre’d approached, he signaled that he was heading to her table.  Coming to stand in front of her he said, “Good evening, Angelique.  You’re looking more beautiful every time I see you.  May I join you?”

Angelique, who had watched him approach with her lipstick gun in hand, relaxed and smiled at the compliment.  “Of course, Cherie.  You are looking well.  Please.  Sit.”  When he did she said, “I ordered a dozen oysters on the half – shell and a Salade Nicoise.  Shall I call the waiter so you can order something?”

“No, thank you, I ate before I left my hotel.”

“But you _do_ want something?”

“I do, indeed; some help.  There is a double agent I’ve been chasing around who may have delivered someone to the Paris satrap.”

“And you think I may know something?”

Napoleon smiled and reached over to stroke slowly up and down her arm.  “I do and since you told me once that you can’t stand the Paris satrap’s chief, I was hoping we might be able to both benefit.”

The waiter arrived with her oysters and she squeezed lemon juice on them and used her seafood fork to pop a couple into her mouth.  “Ohhh, tres bon,” she sighed before offering one to her table companion.

Napoleon seductively slurped the oyster off the fork and followed it up with a sip of her Pinot Grigio.  “Thank you.  Now, can you help me?”

She finished her oysters and then pulled out a cigarette, which Napoleon lit.  Blowing smoke into the air, she turned to face him fully and said, “If I were going to help you, I would tell you that I know this agent you are chasing is Beau Martin and that this Martin creature kidnapped the bastard son of the King of Norway and delivered him to that pig of a satrap chief so that said chief can use the boy to destabilize Norway’s government.  I would also, if I were helping you, tell you that the boy is being held in the basement of the Moulin Rouge and that Martin has already left France.”

“I see.  And if you were helping me, would you tell me where he’s gone?”

“ _If_ I were helping you, I’d tell you he’s gone to Canada.”

Napoleon stroked her hair.  “And if you were _really_ helping me?”

“I would tell you he went to Quebec City.” 

Napoleon reached into his wallet and removed several large denominations of francs.  “Please, allow me to pay for your meal.  Even though you wouldn’t help me, I feel like I should.”  He stood and bent down to kiss her temple.  “Merci, Angelique.”

Ever the pragmatist, she counted the money she had been given.  “Hmm, now I’ll order the steak tartare to accompany my salad.  I can only imagine what you would have given me if I _had_ helped you.”

When he returned to the hotel room, Illya’s relief at seeing him alive and in one piece was palpable.  “Well?”  He watched as Napoleon poured himself three fingers of scotch and took a deep swallow and looked around to see that Colton was asleep.  He accepted the glass of vodka proffered.

“Tomorrow, we fly back to Canada.”

 

  

 


	17. Quebec

“So,” Illya said as he settled into the plush seat of the UNCLE jet as it winged its way across the Atlantic, “you believe that Angelique was telling you the truth?”

Napoleon shrugged as he sipped his tea.  Illya, Colton and he had headed straight to Orly and he was preparing to take an extended nap.  “UNCLE Paris’ Strike Team found the boy right where she said he would be.  If she didn’t lie about that, I don’t think she lied about Martin being in **Q** uebec City.”

“I do not understand, Napoleon.  Why would she tell you _anything?_ What is in it for her?”

“Oh, a couple of things, Tovarisch.  One, she can’t stand the head of the Paris satrap.  I don’t know his name, but she told me once during one of our…trysts that he tried to force himself on her which is the reason why he has a permanent limp.  Two, we really are _very_ sexually compatible and she likes that, so helping me accomplish my mission means we will be in close proximity at some point in the future.  Three, I know that because of Reason One, it amuses her to thwart his plans which benefits UNCLE because the king of Norway is now indebted to us and you never know when that might come in handy.”

Illya snorted, “Are you telling me that we got a lead on this Traitor because of Penis Politics?”

Napoleon spat his tea out he laughed so hard.  “I don’t think I would call it that, but I guess you’re right!”

Walter, who was sitting on the other side of the plane, looked at the two men as they laughed heartily.  “What’s so funny?”

The smile disappeared from the Russian’s face.  “Nothing.”


	18. Richelieu

“Open Channel D.”

“Agent Solo!  I take it you have the Traitor in your custody and are on the way back to New York?”

“Not quite, Sir.  Walter Colton is with us, but we’re on our way to Canada to intercept Beau Martin.”

“Beau Martin?  He was killed on his last affair two days ago.”

“Escorting the bastard son of the King of Norway to military school.  No, Sir, he was _not_ killed.”  Napoleon went on to explain to his superior how the man he thought of as The Traitor had been framed by the real double agent who had now apparently faked his death to avoid exposure and punishment.  “I had Mr. Slate and Miss Dancer to search Martin’s apartment and they found Swiss bank account numbers, that when checked, contain far more money than would be expected on his salary and investments plus, several deeds for properties in Canada.  We’re hoping to find him at either one of his Quebec City properties or his property in **R** ichelieu.”    

“So, what you are telling me, Mr. Solo, is that the man with you now is innocent and Martin is a traitor?  Has anyone corroborated this…theory?”

“It’s no theory, Sir.  Angelique DeChien met with me in Paris and confirmed that Martin is a double agent working for the Paris satrap chief.  She’s the one who told me where Prince Vidar was being held so that the Paris Strike Team could rescue him and she told me he was heading to Quebec City not knowing about the property he owns there.”

“I’m sending Agents Slate and Dancer to meet you in Quebec.  They will escort Agent Colton back to Headquarters.  You will track down and apprehend the Traitor.  Waverly out.”

He put away his communicator and moved closer to Illya and Walter before saying, “Mark and April are taking you back to New York, Walter, while Illya and I pursue Martin.”  At the look of concern on Walter’s face he added, “Mr. Waverly knows you’re innocent.  Tell him what you told us; that plus what Mark and April found in the Traitor’s apartment will be enough proof.”

Hours later, Walter was on his way to New York with the junior agents and Napoleon and Illya were on their way to Richelieu after coming up empty in Quebec City.  “I am hoping,” Illya said as he drove, “that Mr. Waverly will let April and Mark return to assist us.”

Napoleon looked up from the road map he had been studying.  “The Old Man is hoping we catch the Traitor today.  The longer this goes on, the more the accountants are going to scream.  We may still have the advantage of surprise, though.”

“’May?’”

“I don’t think the satrap chief would necessarily take the time to try to contact Martin.  In fact, he might be thinking that his double agent double – crossed him by having UNCLE rescue the boy.  So why would he?”

“You make a good point, Napoleon.”

“I hope it’s the right point, Partner.  I just noticed that Richelieu is only thirty – seven miles from Plattsburgh, New York.  I don’t want to have to chase this guy for the rest of my _life._ ”

  


	19. Saint Jean sur Richelieu

Napoleon was looking over the map of Quebec they had gotten at the car rental.  “I didn’t realize the full name of the town is **S** aint-Jean-sur- Richelieu.”

“Neither did I,” came the reply.  “Which way?”  Following Napoleon’s directions, he finally turned onto Rang Saint Joseph.

Napoleon looked around and saw no one.  “Pull into the woods there; Martin’s house is about a quarter mile up this road.”

As they walked through the woods to Martin’s house, they were pleased to see there were no other houses in the immediate area.  To their left was a wide-open field that stretched quite a ways past Martin’s house and was as wide as a football field is long.  To their right, on the other side of the road, was what appeared to be a deserted commercial use building, complete with some rusted – out skeletons of ancient trucks.

Martin’s house sat in the middle of a large clear piece of land; as near as they could tell, there was another building, probably a garage, on the opposite side of the house.  They had separated and walked to either end of the woods to do some reconnaissance.  Coming back together, they hunkered down to discuss strategy.

“Any ideas?” Napoleon asked.

“Not really.  Perhaps, we might be able to force him to come out.”

The CEA shrugged.  “I thought about that, but how?”  He looked around for inspiration.  “If I were him, I would still be hyper – vigilant.  He’s feeling like maybe he’s gotten away with being a double agent, but he’s not quite sure yet.”  He stood.  “I have an idea, come with me.”

They doubled back the way they came and ran across the road and behind the abandoned building where they found some large, worn truck tires.  Fortunately, Napoleon had his Zippo on him and after he and Illya stuffed old papers and branches into it, he set it on fire and rolled it in the direction of Martin’s house before the two ran back into the woods.

The Solo Luck held true and the flaming tire rolled onto Martin’s property before falling over sending thick black smoke into the air.

“I don’t think he’ll be able to ignore that,” Napoleon said.   

 


	20. Tartarus

Beau Martin saw the burning tire roll onto his property and knew it was a deliberate attempt to lure him out of his house.  A quick assessment of the problem made him feel fairly comfortable that his house was not in danger as the tire had fallen over at least fifteen feet away from it.  _That smoke will be spotted soon and the Fire Department will respond,_ he thought, _if I’m still here when they arrive, Solo and Kuryakin will take me into custody as soon as I step outside!  I can’t go to **T** artarus!*  _Knowing he only had minutes to escape, he ran to his gun closet and pulled out his AK – 47 machine gun.

He moved to his kitchen door, the closest to his car, opened it and began spraying the woods where the two UNCLE agents were, forcing them to duck and cover.  He continued to shoot as he backed up to his car and got in.  He ran out of ammunition just as he got the car started and took off down the road, taking advantage of the smoking tire obstructing his pursuers’ vision.

Illya and Napoleon stood and ran to the road just in time to see Martin’s car disappear around a curve.  Illya grinned wryly at his partner.  “Well, he certainly exited the house.  Now what?”

“Now we head back to the car and try to follow.”

The Russian shrugged and began to lead the way to their vehicle.  “This is taking much longer than I had originally anticipated.”

“Me, too, Partner Mine.  Me, too.”

 

*Tartarus refers to the prison where rogue spies are sent.  I give GM credit for creating it, though I could be wrong.


	21. Uniacke

“Tell me why we are flying to Nova Scotia instead of driving to **U** niacke, Quebec?  The people we spoke to in Richelieu who saw Martin at the gas station filling up said that was where he said he was heading.”

Napoleon was decidedly unhappy about the little four – seater’s bumpy ride.  The pilot they hired whose plane they had chartered for the flight had assured both men that even though his plane looked like it had seen better days, it was perfectly safe.  Napoleon still had his doubts, but it was the only one available at the airport.  “Uniacke is in the middle of nowhere; however, _Mount_ Uniacke is only about nineteen miles away from Halifax.  If I were him, I would head this way hoping that it wouldn’t occur to the people who saw me, who I know are going to be questioned as to the direction I’m heading, that I might have meant Nova Scotia.  They would assume when I said ‘Uriacke’ that I meant the community that’s a six hour drive from Richelieu.”

“So,” Illya said, “he deliberately misdirected them so that they would be completely truthful to us and therefore, believable.”

“Right.  From Nova Scotia, he can sail or fly into New England.  I just need to figure out where he’s ultimately headed.”

The Russian and looked out the window to leave his partner to think in peace.  Even though they had been a step or two behind their target, Illya remained impressed with the on – his – feet thinking Napoleon had been doing since the start of this affair.  The blond’s strength lay in his scientific mind; coming to conclusions logically after sorting through various hypotheses.  Prior to his partnership with the American, he hadn’t believed in things like “gut feelings” and “luck” yet he had seen Napoleon act on both successfully on more than one occasion.  That was why he didn’t question Napoleon’s idea that the Traitor was trying to cross the border back into the United States.  He turned back to his partner when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“We’ll arrive in Mount Uniacke before he does.  I think the best thing to do is to rent a car and drive down to Halifax and perhaps stake out the airport.  We have no idea who he may know in that tiny town, so I would rather we not try to stay there.”

“All right.”

During the drive to Halifax, Napoleon called Marian in Human Resources and asked her to check if the “late” Beau Martin had any relatives in upper New England.  About twenty minutes later, she called back.  “Napoleon, Agent Martin has an uncle who is currently living on an island in Maine that he was close to.  Are you and Illya going to pay your respects?”

“Something like that.”


	22. Vinalhaven, Maine

“Good afternoon, Mr. Whalen, my name is Navarre Solange; we spoke on the phone earlier.  This is my associate, Mr. Edward Case.”

“Yes, yes, nice to meet you both.  Come on in.”  Beau Martin’s uncle, Thomas Whalen, was a kindly looking man who looked to be about seventy years old and was sporting a full head of silvery white hair.  “You’re interested in turning my property into a bed and breakfast?”

“Well, maybe not _this_ property, but we’ve been looking around.  **V** inalhaven Island is beautiful and we’re thinking a bed and breakfast would turn the place into a weekend destination.”

Illya, who had been gazing around the living room living up to his persona as a possible buyer, saw a car approaching the house.  “Do you mind, Mr. Whalen, if I go out the back door to look at your yard?”  He glanced at his partner who knew instantly what the plan was.

“While Eddie’s doing that, perhaps you and I could go into the kitchen?  I’m imagining this house has a large eat – in one.”

“Oh, it does, young man, it does.  In fact, I built these shelves…”

Napoleon feigned interest in the man’s proud description of the work he had put into the house through the years as he maneuvered himself so that he couldn’t be seen by someone walking in the front door.

“Uncle Tommy!  Uncle Tommy, it’s Beau!  Man, you can tell this ain’t New York City!  No one would dare leave their door unlocked…”  Martin’s voice died in his throat when he entered the kitchen and saw Napoleon standing by the fridge.  Recovering, he said, “Oh, I forgot something in the car.  I’ll be right back.”  The man turned and walked quickly back the way he came.

Moments later, Illya came through the front door.  “Mr. Whalen, you have a lovely home, but I do not think it will suit our needs.  Navarre, that man asked if we could take him into town.  His car will not start.”  He looked at Mr. Whalen.  “He said he will call you to let you know when to expect him to return.”

They both shook Mr. Whalen’s hand.  “Nice to meet you, Sir,” Napoleon said as they exited the house.  The two men walked briskly from the house to the car and got in.  Martin was unconscious in the middle of the front seat.  When Napoleon closed the passenger door, he lifted Martin’s arm by the elbow and had him “wave” goodbye to his uncle as Illya drove back down the driveway to the road.

Mr. Whalen stood in his doorway watching the three men leave.  He had learned through the years to not be surprised by his nephew’s sudden appearances and disappearances.  He shrugged his shoulders and went back inside.


	23. Wilton, CT

The **W** averly compound in **W** ilton, Connecticut was quite an impressive place.  If one were curious enough to venture onto the property managing somehow to avoid setting off one of the many alarm systems and evade the constantly patrolling guards, one would think the property belonged to a privacy – craving celebrity or multimillionaire with a penchant for Tennessee Walking Horses.  Besides the large house in the center of the land, there were several stables at the far end of the acreage separated from the living quarters by a copse of very old Red Maple trees.  Two of the structures were camouflaged UNCLE facilities; one a war room and the other held a small lab, conference rooms and the interrogation room where The Traitor and Waverly sat with a table between them while Napoleon and Illya stood on the other side of a two – way mirror.

They had driven their prisoner to UNCLE Boston and then helicoptered there as ordered.  Illya had administered the veridical he had developed, Veritol 19, to the prisoner and the Old Man had personally interrogated the man.  Both agents were amazed how Waverly was able to punch through Martin’s resistance to the drug and get him talking.  He told how he was able to succeed as a double agent (Napoleon furiously took notes), what and who he had compromised by passing information to THRUSH and most importantly, what and who were in danger. 

Four long hours later, Martin had no more to disclose.  It appeared to Napoleon that both he and Waverly were exhausted.  He saw the Old Man push a button and the door opened to reveal two members of his personal security team.  “I’m done with him,” Waverly said as he waved his hand dismissively.  “Take him to Tartarus and we will never speak his name again.” 

After Martin was dragged away, he continued to sit in his chair chewing his unlit pipe, head down as he thought.  “Come in, Gentlemen!” he called.

When Illya and Napoleon entered the room he said, “There is one more thing to be done, Agents Solo and Kuryakin before we put this affair to bed.  You heard what he said about who is in peril.  Mr. Kuryakin, you must leave immediately to help Agent Cortez and Mr. Solo, you will go to assist Agent Williams.  Once that is done, I believe you both deserve two weeks’ vacation.”

“We won’t fail you, Sir,” Napoleon replied as he and his partner took their leave.  Once they emerged from the building he said, “Partner Mine, I think I can see the light at the end of this tunnel.”   


	24. Xalapa, Mexico

Agent Cortez was a little worse for wear, but all things considered, he was going to be just fine.  “Agent Kuryakin…”

“I just saved your life.  Call me Illya.”

“Illya, then.  How did you find me?  I was grabbed in Guadalajara about an hour after my last check – in.  I’m not due to call in for another seven hours!  How did you know I was captured and how did you know where to find me?”

“I knew nothing.  Mr. Waverly told me where to look for you and what to do: Save you and the blueprints of THRUSH’s southern Mexico laboratory.”

“That man is incredible!  How did _he_ know where I was?”

Illya shrugged his shoulders and settled a little more firmly into his seat.  The two men were on a Pan Am flight to Los Angeles.  Illya had arrived in **X** alapa, Mexico four days earlier where he had met up with a Strike Team based out of Mexico City.  The Traitor’s information had been truthful and useful; Cortez was exactly where he said he should be and the local satrapy chief hadn’t had a chance to forward the lab plans to the Central Committee.  _I hope Napoleon’s information is as good as mine was.  I am so, so tired!  This whole affair has been much too long!_ The sound of throat clearing pulled him back from his thoughts.  “Yes?”

“I was just asking if you’re heading back to New York with me.”

The Russian shook his head.  “ _Nyet_ , I am meeting my partner in Los Angeles.”

“Another mission, huh?”  At the narrowing of Illya’s eyes, Agent Cortez said quickly, “I wasn’t trying to pry, Sir, um, Illya.  It’s just…well, I’m glad I’m just a field agent and not the CEA or the Second in Command of Section II.  You guys do a _lot_.”

Illya closed his eyes as he prepared to nap for the remainder of the flight.  “You have no idea” was the last thing he said.


	25. Yuma, Arizona

“Napoleon, I swear you could’ve knocked me over with a feather when the door blew off and I saw you standing there!”  John Williams was thirty – six years old and a six feet one inch tall corn – fed good old boy who grew up in Nebraska farmland.  He was able to hotwire a car for them to affect their escape from the satrap he was being held in just outside **Y** uma, Arizona. 

“And this is how you repay me?  By stealing a car with no air conditioning?  It has to be 105 out here!”

“I overheard one of the guards mention that it was 107.  That’s about right for Arizona in July.  This is how we did air conditioning when I was growing up back home: Driving sixty on the highway with all four windows down!”  He to shout to be heard over the sound of the wind.  “This feels like freedom to me!”

Napoleon had given up on his hair which was whipping around his head and his suit which was dirty and soaking wet from the effort of fighting and darting several dirty birds who were holding Williams captive.  Williams said the satrap chief had left three hours before Napoleon arrived.  _Ah well, capturing him is an affair for another day and another agent,_ he thought as they headed down the highway to Yuma.  “What will feel like freedom to _me_ is getting you back to the LA office.”

“Are you flying back East immediately?”

Napoleon considered the question even as he made a mental note to himself to remind the agents under his supervision not to share information about assignments so freely with agents who are not partnered to them.  _That’s how Martin came to know so much and was able to help THRUSH._   “In all honesty, John, I don’t know what I’m doing after I drop you at LA HQ.”  _I’ll meet up with Illya and we’ll figure that out._


	26. Zealand, Denmark

Napoleon tossed his suitcase on the couch in his and Illya’s suite in the Hotel d’Angleterre of Copenhagen and then flopped unceremoniously onto his double bed.  His partner had mirrored his actions and was now flat on his back on his own double bed holding some of the tourist literature he had picked up in the lobby above his head to read.  “There are some fascinating museums here,” he remarked as he perused the guide book.  “Did you know that the island Copenhagen sits on is called **Z** ealand?”

“I did, actually.”

“I must admit, Napoleon, that I was rather shocked you would want to come to Denmark for our vacation.  This is more my, as you Americans say, speed.  The average July temperature is seventy, a little chilly for you to go to the beach though I am sure the locals are fine with it.  I was also astonished that you booked us into this luxury hotel and used an UNCLE jet to get here.”

“Hey, Mr. Waverly hasn’t rescinded the carte blanche order yet, so I figured we should use it one last time.  Besides, I won’t be using it much.”

Illya sat up to stare at his partner.  “We are in a beautiful city on a two week vacation.  There are many beautiful women here for you to wine and dine at all the fancy restaurants.  I cannot imagine you not ‘using it much.’”

“Illya, Partner Mine, after everything we’ve been through for the last seven weeks, I am tired and I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but women are the last thing on my mind.”

“ _What?”_

“You heard me.  My game plan for the next week is to sleep as much as I can, order as much room service as I can and relax as much as I possibly can.”

“I see.  And what are your plans for the following week?”

“More of the same with perhaps a fancy meal at a fancy restaurant with my best friend while we work up explanations for all the money we spent chasing the Traitor.”

Illya’s mouth formed into his true smile.  “We will work up an appetite doing that, Napoleon.  I like the way you think!”

“Good.  Grab the menu; for once, I’m the one starving.  Time to order dinner and get this vacation started!”       


End file.
